Neville Longbottom: The Prophecy Child
by Solemn Vocation
Summary: What would happen if the famed Harry Potter was not the Prophecy Child? A FanFic where Neville is the hero for once.
1. Chapter 1

_**I know, the title sounds crazy, right? We're so used to Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord, Harry Potter getting all of the attention, Harry Potter saving everyone. He's more famous than dorky Neville Longbottom, and the series is called "Harry Potter," not "Neville Longbottom." I myself am not a Harry-hater, but I think that later on in the series, he tends to get quite rude, and a little too emotional (or, in everyone else's terms, 'emo') for my tastes. So, I'm giving Neville a shot at being the hero here. Enjoy!**_

_**Part I**_

_**[Time Frame]: The early morning of the day of the Death Eater's attack.**_

Neville Longbottom's eyelids opened to darkness. He yawned and sat upright in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It was nearly 5 A.M., and this was his usual rising time. Professor Sprout was probably out In the Herbology Gardens by now, tending to the more ferocious plants. Neville always helped her with the more docile ones.

He turned towards the window next to which he slept and smiled. Hogwarts was beautiful this early in the morning. The mist was barely starting to rise from the grass, and you could see the sparkling dew underneath it if you looked hard enough. The sun was just rising, and the sky was a greyish-pink. Birds chirped their morning songs, and the whole world seemed perfect. He sighed contentedly, but the moment was not to last. Ron rolled over in bed and snored quite loudly, startling poor Neville, who turned around abruptly and strained his neck.

Rubbing the back of it, he scowled at the sleeping Ronald Weasley, but soon smirked mischievously. He was mumbling something in his sleep, something that sounded like 'Hermione.' Neville shook his head good-naturedly and looked at his other companions.

Dean Thomas never slept underneath the covers, even on the coldest of nights. He said it made him feel uncomfortable. It was always amusing to watch him sleep, though. He didn't snore at all, but he drooled horribly, and one hand was always hanging over the side of the mattress. It looked from a distance, and sometimes up close, like he was dead.

Seamus Finnigan was the only boy in their dormitory who couldn't stand Ron's snoring. Everyone else ignored it, but he was so irritated by it that he always slept with his head shoved underneath the pillow. Neville once voiced his worry that he might suffocate that way, but Seamus only laughed and said he could breathe just fine. When Ron asked, the old Irish temper came out and Seamus blew up on him. Neville was glad he didn't offend Seamus; the boy was feisty when he was angry.

Neville chuckled to himself, but stopped when he saw Harry tossing and turning in bed. Harry always slept fitfully. He never said why, but Neville knew it was because of nightmares. Many a night had he woken up to Harry's screams of terror, but he'd never shown that he was awake. As far as Harry was concerned, the secret of his uncomfortable sleeping habits was safe.

Neville pulled back the covers and wriggled his toes in the cold air. He pressed them down onto the even colder floor, and with a deep breath, jumped onto the wood paneling with both feet. A sickening crack resounded. Neville looked anxiously at his cronies, hoping to find that they were still asleep. Thankfully, they were. Not one of them had moved even the slightest bit.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief, and knowing that the worst was over, tiptoed over to the wardrobe. The floor made occasional noises underneath him, but they were relatively quiet. The next problem he faced came when he opened the wardrobe. The doors creaked horribly, and peering again at his pals he noticed that Dean was twitching a bit and Seamus had stirred, moving from his previous position to another one, still under the pillow, however.

Carefully, Neville lifted his robes and other things from the wardrobe, closed the door, dressed silently, and grabbed his knapsack of things from his bedside. Professor Sprout would surely marvel at his close encounter this morning. She didn't approve of waking the other students when he came to help her. This was supposed to be a secret escapade.

Neville was quite pleased when he arrived safely on the Hogwarts' Grounds without another mishap. He meandered around on the sweet-smelling grass, taking the 'scenic' route to the Gardens (meaning he walked on the landscape instead of taking the path as students were advised to do). He finally came upon the huge plant dome, and a wave of excitement came over him. A ruder student might have called him a nerd at that moment, but someone who was a nerd, like Hermione Granger, probably would have clapped him on the back, glad to see that something interested him.

He reached out a hand to touch the handle and enter the Greenhouse, but something stopped him. He heard an ever so faint cough coming from behind him. At first, he figured that it was probably a bloody horklump, escaped from the Gardens, but then he turned around to look. It was Professor Dumbledore, standing in a very long and flannel nightgown with a matching cap and slippers, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. He smiled and waved with a look of pure surprise when he noticed Neville looking at him, as though he hadn't known someone was really there.

"Good morning, Neville," he said cheerfully. "How are you?" Neville swallowed, always nervous around adults with superiority, and replied, "Fine, Professor, and you?"

Dumbledore seemed to be pondering this answer. "I am feeling well, thank you, but I do admit that I've had a bit of a cough. I apologize if I may have startled you." He smiled down again at his pupil and then turned to leave, gesturing towards the castle. "I've just been down for my morning walk, but seeing as I've caught you here as well, perhaps you'd like to join me for a stroll through our beloved school? There's something I want to show you."

Neville thought about this for a moment, looking towards his headmaster and then at the Herbology door. Dumbledore noticed. "That is, of course, if you've nothing to do this morning before breakfast."

Neville didn't want to be indecent, so he accompanied the Professor back to Hogwarts. He didn't quite know what this man might want to show him, but it wasn't really of very much interest to him. He was a little sore that he hadn't been able to talk to Professor Sprout, but he couldn't very well turn down Professor Dumbledore, now could he?

They passed through various classrooms, trailed down long hallways, rounded sharp turns, and scaled several flights of stairs before they reached the floor where Dumbledore's office was. That wasn't the first thing they saw, however. They came upon Luna Lovegood just as they stepped off the staircase.

"'Morning Professor," she said in her quiet voice. "Hi Neville." She was wearing thick, chunky black glasses and was carrying several books, as well as a magnifying glass. Neville smiled shyly and waved a bit. He was sort of partial to Luna, though he'd never betray that to anyone. Neville didn't really betray anything, for that matter, let alone which witch he had a crush on.

"Good morning, Miss Lovegood, and how are we this lovely day?" Professor Dumbledore greeted. Luna grinned up at him. "I'm looking for the nargles. You know, they're most often found in the early hours of the day." Dumbledore chuckled. "We won't be keeping you then. Onward, Neville."

And onward they went, straight to the Headmaster's office. Neville was seated in a rather comfy armchair whilst the Professor searched for something in a very large wooden chest in one corner of the room. It didn't take him very long to find what he was looking for, however. Almost as soon as Neville had placed his rear onto the fluffy chair, Dumbledore jumped (quite high for an old man, I might add) up with an object and rushed over to his student. He shoved it right in front of the poor boy's nose, causing him to sneeze.

Dumbledore rubbed the dust off of his finding and gave it to Neville, who took it in his shaking hands and almost wept. It was a picture frame, and inside the frame was a photograph of Frank and Alice Longbottom, holding hands and standing in front of Hogwarts, about sixteen or seventeen.

Neville looked up into Albus Dumbledore's face. The man sniffled and beamed. "I want you to have this, Neville. Use it as a symbol of courage. Whenever you come across a problem, look at this picture. I think it will help you in the near future."

"Sir, I couldn't possibly take this from you, it's yours!" the boy protested, holding up the sacred photo to the older gentlemen. But the photo was refused. Dumbledore shook his head and laid a hand on Neville's trembling one. "My dear, that is as good as yours. Why, those dashing young folks certainly aren't my parents, now are they? You should be very proud of what they have done. Please, take it, child. Trust me, you will need it."

Neville nodded, though not really understanding what his Professor meant. How could he use a picture if he was afraid? Of course, he was very proud of his parents, but again, a picture would do him no good if he was in danger, right? "Thank you sir, thank you very much," he mumbled, gripping his prize tightly in both hands. Dumbledore smiled and clapped him on the back. "Yes, well, you'd better take it to your dormitory now. I expect you're getting hungry, and breakfast will soon be over if you don't rush over there. Pip pip!"

Neville nodded and hurried to place the picture with his things. Then, instead of going to the Herbology Gardens to find Professor Sprout, he headed to the Great Hall, like Dumbledore had suggested, for some grub. Ravenous plants and magical fungi would have to wait until after he had gotten nourishment.

_**Hope you enjoyed so far. R&R if you want. Might be helpful if you're expectant for another chapter.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I have finally finished Part II. Took me about 30 minutes to write, I had a writer's frenzy :).**

**_Part II_**

**_[Time Frame]: The day after Dumbledore's death._**

Neville stood among the hoard of students gathered to honor Albus Dumbledore. He lay in the Great Hall, surrounded by pupils, teachers, and other mourners. Minerva McGonagall, whom everyone knew was quite attached to the Professor, stood straight as an iron rod in front of him, a single tear trailing down her wrinkled cheek. It was Harry Potter, kneeling before his idol, who led the sob-fest. He refused to raise himself from the body. Hermione wept quietly in Ron's shoulder, and he patted her head and silently watched Harry.

Neville raised his want and sent up the reverent sparks when bidden, paid due respects when allowed, and said kind words to Harry and Professor McGonagall when told to do so, but he did it as in a trance. His actions were robotic, his language stiff. He had absolutely no feelings about the matter as of yet. It was still shocking what had happened.

Late last night, rudely awakened from his slumber by screaming and loud cracks from wands, he had personally witnessed Hagrid's burning hut smolder from his window, watched the Death Eaters fly off into the night after such destruction, and had seen Snape follow them. It was a horrible nightmare, and he still wasn't sure if it was real or not.

Seamus had gone off on a tangent, saying how he was sure his mum would never let him stay with Dumbledore gone, how he wasn't too sure he wanted to stay anymore. He criticized Harry for being so weak, for acting like a little girl instead of taking the loss like a man, like nearly everyone else. Neville hadn't really time to decide what he thought about all of it, for he was bustled everywhere that morning. Students were being sent home immediately, term ending early while the Ministry sorted everything out, and Neville's Gran was probably one of, if not the, first parent/guardian to want their child/children out of the school pronto. He was sent packing right after the ceremony, given last minute items from all the professors in order to continue studies at home, and a note about the events that had occurred. He was shipped onto the train right after the lunch hour without a proper goodbye.

As he sat among his possessions in the vacant car, it finally hit him. He was leaving Hogwarts, possibly forever. Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all time, was dead, and he, Neville Longbottom, would never be able to avenge his mentor's death, because he would never graduate Hogwarts. He was pretty sure Gran wouldn't want him to return.

He was right. They apparated together from the station, and just as soon as he stepped through the front door of the house, she told him, "You're not going back, boy, you realize that, don't you?"

He had realized it, but he didn't want to believe it. "Gran, please be reasonable…" He was not allowed to finish. His grandmother took off her vulture hat, hung it up on the rack, and sat down at the little side table in the hall, her head in her hands. "My dear child, you can't possibly fathom that I'd let you return there, not after what has just occurred! I hope you said proper goodbyes. You'll not step through those doors again." She seemed to be trying to smooth away the ever-present wrinkles upon her forehead.

Neville, having transformed in that moment from the meek little boy he once was into a lion, roared at her, so to speak. "My parents are in St. Mungo's, Gran. Surely you know that. They gave up everything to save me, to save us all. Look at what became of them, Gran! I have to go back, to learn, to become what they became, even though I may suffer the same fate." "Neville, I said…" "I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID!" he screamed at her. She looked at him in awe, and his hands trembled as he looked at his palms and said, "How am I supposed to live up to their legacy? I am nothing, Gran, nothing. I'm miserable, useless, stupid, and I won't ever be anything better unless you let me go back. Please, Gran, you have to let me go back to Hogwarts."

His eyes pleaded with her. He would have liked to beg, on his knees, imploring her to send him back, but that wasn't the manly thing to do. She collapsed onto the table in tears. Neville felt some pity, but mostly anger, and it built up until she finally said, in a broken voice, "I have lost two Longbottoms already, Neville. I cannot, and will not, lose another. I'm sorry."

Neville pulled at his hair and flailed his arms furiously, but she didn't even look at him. He finally gave up, and took his suitcases up to his attic room sadly. He roughly threw them to the floor and slammed the door, not caring if the sound echoed for miles around. Gran never let him do anything! She treated him like a child, while he was almost seventeen. Her decision was selfish, wasn't it? Just because she was afraid, Neville couldn't go back to the one place he felt special, would not allow him entry into the place where he could do what he best- fiddle with plants. He loved Herbology, and because of Gran, he'd never be able to become a Professor of Herbology. He couldn't get a job that paid well; he'd have to work at the Leaky Cauldron forevermore. He would never find a decent girl, and when Voldemort came back, he wouldn't be able to protect himself or anyone else, because he wouldn't be experienced enough. He'd have to sit back and watch Harry Potter save everyone again and again, while he muttered and twiddled thumbs in the shadows…

Nope, that wouldn't be happening. If Gran refused to send him to Hogwarts, he'd find someone that would: his uncle Algie.

**Hope you enjoyed, please R&R :].**


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

**_[Time Frame]: At Algie Longbottom's place, early evening._**

Neville took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He imagined that his uncle was either dining or lounging about this time. It was nearly 7 o'clock. He prayed that Gran would forget about him. He'd grudgingly gone down to supper at five, but after that, retreated to his attic room and stayed there, without another word, ever since. Hopefully, she'd give him some space and not come to investigate.

With a groan, Neville rang the doorbell once more and accompanied it with a hammering fist upon the oak door. He heard the scuttling of feet behind the massive thing, along with whispers from what sounded like a young girl. _The maid?_, Neville hoped. Thankfully, it was a maid that opened the door a moment later and ushered Neville into the house quickly, heavily knocking the door after him.

"Mr. Neville, your uncle has been expecting you," she whispered, taking off his coat and smoothing his wrinkled dress shirt. Neville drew away from her, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt and un-tucking it, just to be rebellious. "Why's he expecting me? I sent no word of my arrival," he said in reply, wandering around the entry hall, looking at the pictures of Algie and his various wives. The maid, looking distressed at Neville's appearance, didn't answer the question. Instead, she came closer and licked a finger, brushing down the boy's hair with her saliva. Neville jumped away and messed up his hair with a smirk. The girl finally gave up with a sigh and said, "Your uncle has his ways, my dear. He's up in his study, if you would be so kind as to go up there."

Neville nodded and smiled at her, as if that would make amends for his behavior, and hurried up the stairs, with his shoes still on. He wasn't completely cured of the new-found attitude quite yet.

The door to Algie's study was, as usual, wide open. Privacy wasn't a need with him. He kept no secrets, and anyone who wished to know his business could. Of course, this meant that he figured everyone else's business should be his. _Perhaps that's how he found out about my problem, by asking prying questions_, thought Neville as he bounded up the last step and approached the door.

A knock on the open door or a peek into the room was not necessary. Algie Longbottom rushed out of the door and approached his nephew with open arms. "My dear Neville!" he exclaimed, and just as the poor child was pulled into the embrace, he noticed something was awry. His uncle's brow was wrinkled up, like he'd been thinking deeply about something. That was all wrong. Algie never thought! He lived life purely on instinct. It was apparent to Neville that something was troubling him greatly.

"Ah, dear nephew, won't you please come and sit down? I'll get you a glass of punch, yes, or a crumpet." Neville was maneuvered into the room and pushed into a rather comfy black armchair. While his scatterbrained uncle prepared the treats, quills scribbled letters or quick notes on the desk. A feather duster cleaned the window-sills and panes, music was playing somewhere behind him, and various important witches and wizards mulled about in the black and white photographs hanging all over the beige walls.

Algie delivered the crumpet and cup of punch to Neville and sat himself down on a spindly chair opposite the latter. He was munching on his own crumpet and looking around his study with an air of worry when his nephew asked, "Is there something wrong, uncle?"

The man smiled. "No, my boy, there's nothing out of the ordinary going on, if that's what you mean. But, you see, I've been thinking…" He trailed off, and Neville tried not to laugh. _There's a shock_, he thought to himself, but then he stopped the rudeness and flushed. He'd never acted this way before, and he must never do it again. Longbottoms were dignified people, and he must act as such.

Algie cleared his throat. "Well, I've actually been thinking about you, Neville, and your education. Seeing as your Grandmother pulled you out of term early and isn't planning on sending you back at all, I was wondering if you'd be rather interested in coming here. I could get you tutors, and you'd be able to study here! By Jove, I think we'd make up for your lack of learning this summer, and b y fall, you wouldn't need to return to Hogwarts at all. What do you say?"

Neville was speechless. Uncle Algie was offering to spend his money on what had originally thought of as a Squib! He wanted Neville to come to his glorious house and learn all he possibly could to make up for lost time. It was touching to see that he was truly cared about by this man, but no, Neville could not accept.

"Actually, uncle, I came here this evening to ask you…" Algie held up a hand to stop any further comments. "I know why you came, my dear boy. You want to go back to Hogwarts in the fall, and your Grandmother won't hear of it. Am I right?" Neville was speechless. "How did you know?" he asked in bewilderment.

"It's fairly obvious," his uncle replied. "You're not too hard to read, Neville. But the reason I'm offering you such a prize is because it's preposterous to send you back to that school, and I refuse to go behind that woman's back and send you there. It's for your own good that we keep you under our noses, at least for the time being. Now, what do you say, boy?"

Neville fumed. His uncle was only thinking of himself, wasn't he? The man didn't want Gran all over him when Neville was sent back to the blessed school. They were trying to control him, that's what, and the only way how they were to do so was if they kept him within reach.

"I'm afraid, Uncle Algie, that I'll have to refuse your offer. I'm sorry, but this isn't the life for me, being cooped up and caged like a common songbird. No, I've plans for my life, thank you. Furthermore, since you're obviously not going to consent to my plea, there's no reason to stay here another minute. Good day, uncle."

Neville placed the cup and untouched crumpet on the desk and walked out of the study, honestly feeling lighter in step. He was leaving Gran's this evening, and he'd go off and find his friends. Maybe he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts, but he'd find a way to do something on his own, one way or another.

He ignored Algie's cries and the maid's warnings as he grabbed his jacket from the hanger and stormed out the front door. The air was light, and the stars were shining brightly ahead of him. He apparated back to Gran's house and began to pack immediately. First stop would be Ron's place. He knew Mrs. Weasley would help him out. She was everyone's mother, and no matter what you asked of her, she did her best to assist you. Neville knew she'd understand. She always did.

_**Hope this satisfies for now. I plan on adding the next part real soon :).**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

**[Time Frame]: At the Burrow, with Mrs. Weasley.**

"Oh, goodness, that will not do. My dear, it's much too late for you to go back home, so I insist you stay the night, but tomorrow I promise I shall speak with your Grandmother," said the red-haired, plump woman, bedecked in a cozy apron. The Burrow was warm and comfortable tonight, and she looked quite content.

Neville sat at the Weasley's kitchen table, his bags at his feet. Molly Weasley was cooking up some hot soup for him, her secret recipe, while listening to the tale.

The rain had started as soon as Neville had gotten back to Gran's earlier that evening, as if an omen. He had barely noticed, though. Now, looking out the kitchen window, he saw the storm pick up speed. It was coming down in sheets, pouring onto the Earth. He actually liked the sight. It comforted him and calmed the raging thoughts in his mind.

Mrs. Weasley put the steaming soup in front of him and wiped her hands on her apron. "There, now. You just eat up, pumpkin, and I'll see about where you can sleep." She proceeded to gaze upon an odd sort of clock which hung upon the wall. It wasn't actually a clock at all, but a magical device which told where each of the Weasley children was. Neville knew he shouldn't snoop, but he looked over Molly Weasley's shoulder and inspected the clock.

He liked how each child's face was on each of the dials. Bill's face was pointing to 'Out with Friends,' Charlie's was at 'Out of Town,' both of the twins were indicating 'Work,' Ginny's was safely at 'HOME,' and unfortunately, Ron's freckled face was in a dark are of the clock where the title said, "God Knows Where.'

Mrs. Weasley promptly shrieked and threw the object in the air. Neville winced as it fell toward the kitchen floor. Just in the nick of time, though, it swooped back up and onto the wall, hanging itself on a nail. Neville went back to his soup as though nothing happened. His hostess began voicing her displeasure in a rage and hurried from the kitchen in a huff.

She returned a moment later slightly calmer with Ginny by her side. Neville smiled at the girl. She had gotten very pretty over the years, and he'd never forgotten how they'd danced together at the Yule Ball, but they were only friends. She smiled back, but did not come over to him. Mrs. Weasley promptly dragged her off, questioning her firmly. Neville strained to hear, but could not over the drum of rain on the roof.

All of a sudden, an awful crack resounded throughout the Burrow. Male voices, shouting, it seemed, came from upstairs. Mrs. Weasley rushed around the corner and up the stairs, muttering all the while. Ginny, in a bit of a shock, came over to stand by Neville.

"Bloody idiot's going to get strangled by Mum," she said quietly. Neville's eyes widened as yells, presumably Ron's, echoed from above. Ginny snickered, but then sighed. "Probably brought along Harry with him," she said, more to herself. Neville caught a glimpse of a blush on her cheeks and a shine in her eyes, but in another moment they were gone, and Ginny was tidying up the kitchen. She took Neville's empty bowl and started to wash the dishes. He turned around to see Mrs. Weasley coming back down the stairs, and she looked ill at ease.

"That was Ron, I take it?" Ginny asked her mother, not turning away from the sink. Neville knew her well enough to realize she was trying hard not to laugh. Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Yes, my dear, that was Ronald." She said nothing more, but sat herself down in the chair adjacent Neville. Ginny washed another dish. "Well, did he bring Harry?" There was a hint of eagerness in her voice. Mrs. Weasley replied with another sigh.

"Harry is here as well," she said, adjusting her apron. Ginny seemed impatient now, for she set down the rag she had previously been holding and came over to her mother. "And?" she urged. Molly Weasley shook her head. "They're not staying long," was the quiet response. Ginny groaned. "Of course not, why would they stay for more than five minutes?" she fussed, going back to the dishes. Neville knew both women were distressed, so he excused himself and took up his bags.

Mrs. Weasley said not a word as he left the kitchen, which Neville felt was good. She wouldn't stop him from going up to talk to the guys. Just in case they objected to his spending the night here, however, he put his bags on the couch in the Weasley's living room before climbing the creaky stairs.

He could hear their voices more clearly now. They were arguing, actually. Neville grimaced. He hated when Harry and Ron argued. He'd been witness to their quarrels many a time at Hogwarts, and when they didn't end well, he always felt somewhat responsible for not having stopped it, like he could have prevented whatever was wrong. But the one time he'd dared to bring this up to Harry, the latter had yelled at him, and stalked off.

Huffing and puffing, Neville reached the top of the stairs. Ron's room was up another small flight of stairs, which was concealed in the now open closet door. He was graced with the attic room. Neville knew this much. Plus, that's where the voices were coming from.

He took a deep breath, or as deep as he could after that bout of exercise, and walked up Ron's stairs into his room. Harry and Ron looked shocked to see him; so shocked that they stopped talking as soon as he walked in.

"Hi, guys," he said as cheerfully as he could. Ron cleared his throat and nodded his head in greeting, obviously out of his dazed reverie. He nudged Harry, who also seemed to 'wake up' and notice that he was being rude.

"Hi, Neville," he said curtly. With that, he turned around and began to rifle through some things in his knapsack. Ron took the opportunity to get to the chase. "What exactly are you doing here?" he asked. Neville scratched his head and looked about the room nervously. "It's a bit of a long story," he admitted. "Well come on, we don't have all night," Ron barked, sitting down on the bed.

Neville was shocked. Ron had never expressed much interest in talking to him. This was certainly a big step forward. Neville grinned and sat down in a stool which sat by the door. From there, he proceeded to tell Ron Weasley and Harry Potter about his ride home that evening from Hogwarts, his Gran's disapproval of ever returning there, Uncle Algie's offer, and now arriving at the Burrow.

When the tale was finished, Ron still looked confused. "But why are you here?" he asked. Harry groaned. "He wants to know if we can help him get back to Hogwarts next year," he said. Neville nodded. "Yeah, I mean, if you guys can't help me sneak back, then maybe your mum could convince Gran to send me back?"

Ron seemed to actually consider this. "Harry's staying with us for a while, and he's real good at sneaking," he muttered. Harry piped up. "I'm not going back to the Muggles, and the Weasleys offered to take me in for the summer." Neville nodded.

Ron didn't seem to like the answer, though. "Yeah, but Harry doesn't want to stay, do you?" His voice was tense. Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, it's not like that. I told you, it's not personal, but I've got to do something. You can come, but…" "But you don't want to wait. Not for the wedding, not for Hermione…"

The argument was imminent. Neville cleared his throat anxiously. Both boys turned to him. "Maybe you should wait a little while, Harry. I mean, if you're going somewhere, maybe I can help. If I can't go back to Hogwarts without causing a ruckus, then maybe I'd better do something else with my life. Could you include one more in your party? But Hermione is always a big help, too."

Ron looked triumphant. "See? Even Neville agrees. You can't leave yet, mate. Even if you wanted to, you can't leave tonight. Get some rest, maybe you'll think better of it tomorrow." Harry, defeated, grumbled as he laid out blankets on the wooden floor.

"Where are you sleeping?" Ron asked. Neville shrugged. "Hadn't really thought of it yet," he said quietly. Ron smiled a bit. "I guess you could sleep up here with us," he offered. Neville grinned and ran down to get his stuff.

The next morning, the trio awoke to smell bacon and flapjacks coming from the kitchen. It was a comforting smell. Before they could get out of bed, however, a knock came from the door. In came Ginny, blushing to find them still abed. "Breakfast is ready," she said quietly. "But if I were you, I'd get downstairs quick. We've got company." The look she gave Ron was mischievous. He jumped out of bed and quickly changed. Without a backward glance, he ran down the stairs. Ginny hesitated, waiting for Harry it seemed, but when he waved her off she dutifully followed her brother. Harry and Neville chuckled when they heard Ron's excited yell, "BILL!"

The twins of course replied with interesting remarks, and Ginny, slowly moving down the stairs, could be heard making a comment about 'Phlegm.' The boys hurriedly dressed and rushed down the stairs. The aroma of good food was getting to their heads.

Breakfast was a cheery affair. Fleur and Bill told stories of their travels (they were taking their honeymoon BEFORE the wedding because Bill had to go to an important meeting in Egypt for Gringotts the day after the wedding) and Fred and George shared their work stories, particularly the amusing ones. Neville loved the one about the bloke who had come in looking for a certain nasty sweet which would turn his mother-in-law into a teakettle, but George slipped him a 'free sample' before he could get to that aisle, turning him into a squirrel.

Mr. Weasley, late to the table, passed out copies of the _Daily Prophet _to each individual solemnly and sipped his coffee as they read the headlines. The response he wanted came from everyone except Neville, who was glaring at the paper with pure hatred.

"Oi, Longbottom, what you so keen on reading? Someone buy the jumper you wanted?" joked Fred, pouring himself some juice. Neville threw down the newspaper in a fury and stood up.

"Blimey, Neville, he didn't mean it," Ron told him, putting a hand on his arm. Neville shook his head and jabbed a sticky finger at the account from Rita Skeeter. Ginny snatched up the paper and read the article, then rolled his eyes in disgust. "Neville, you can't believe anything that rat says," she said angrily. "It's not true."

Neville pushed back his chair and ran to collect his things. He was back down not a minute later, eyes blazing. "Whether it's true or not, I'm going to find out. Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Bye, guys." He marched to the door, and at the last second, Ginny threw herself in front of it.

"Neville, you're out of your bloody mind! You can't go looking for her yourself; let the Aurors take care of it. And what if Skeeter's just writing crap, which I'm sure she is? Are you really going to take the bait?" Neville gently pushed her aside and walked out of the house. Ginny ran after him, screaming, "WHAT IF SHE KILLS HER, NEVILLE?" Neville stopped walking. "If it's true, then she did it to get to you, Neville. She's going to do something to her. What if she does the same thing to her as she did to your parents?"

"Over my dead body," Neville muttered, and with that, he apparated. Ginny broke down in sobs. "You're right, it will be," she wept. Harry stood and ran out the door to comfort her. He could not stand it that Ginny was crying. He hugged her and smoothed her hair, and she turned around and cried on his shoulder.

Mr. Weasley stared at the ajar kitchen door. "What the devil was that about? He's got quite a bee in his bonnet…" he trailed off as he saw what Neville had gotten jumpy about. Rita Skeeter's article, entitled "Lovegood: Is it really?" was on the bottom of the front page.

Apparently, Xenophilius Lovegood had been approached by Bellatrix Lestrange. She promised his life would be spared if he gave up his daughter. Luna, who was out 'playing with gnargles,' agreed to accompany Bellatrix, who took her away and disappeared without a trace. Mr. Lovegood was now at St. Mungo's, for Bellatrix had lied and used the Cruciatus curse on him. He was now in the mentally deranged wing of St. Mungo's, where Neville's parents were, but still able to function a bit. It was believed that with time, he'd return to his original self.

Ron shook his head. Neville was going off to be a hero. "Godspeed," he whispered, hoping his buddy would survive. He knew that if it had been Hermione, he'd have done the same thing. "That's a man," he said loudly, and crunched on another piece of bacon.

_**Sorry if this seems a little jumbled. I thought I'd better add a hint of a few pairings to get it interesting. R&R if you feel the need. :P**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Part V**

**[Time Frame]: St. Mungo's Hospital- Neville has just arrived.**

Neville wandered through the halls of St. Mungo's aimlessly. He wouldn't admit to any of the nurses that he was lost, though in truth, he was. While thinking about this new-found attitude he'd just uncovered within itself, he'd gotten mixed up in the seemingly identical hallways. Where exactly was the Mentally Ill ward?

With a sigh, he decided to ask one of the nurses, who was coming down the corridor with a checklist. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said quietly, touching her arm. "Can you please direct me to the Mentally Ill Ward?" She looked up into his face and smiled. "Of course, sir, right this way, I was just going there myself." She lead him down several more hallways, up a few flights of stairs, and pointed to double doors at the end of a rather dreary corridor.

"Through those doors and you're good to go, sir," she told him. He nodded, thanked her, and headed down the hall. The nurse stood, checking off things on her board, behind him. He felt brave and opened the door to a blood-curdling scream.

Jumping back in fright, the door swung back to close. He grabbed it just in time, so that it didn't slam, and slipped inside with bated breath. Sure enough, the scream sounded again from a room quite near the entrance. He peered in. Relief washed over him as he saw that it was not his parents or Mr. Lovegood, but a very old woman who seemed to be part banshee. There was a tinge of green to her skin…or maybe she was just sick. He dodged out of the doorway as the woman vomited.

Nervously, he moved on. The next few rooms were dark, so he didn't even bother asking. He'd come back if his search proved uneventful. It took another moment, but then it hit him. He remembered where his Gran had taken him when she came last to visit his parents.

He turned a few more corners and ended up exactly where he wanted to be: the severe, point-of-no-return rooms. With a quick peek into a few open doors, he found a glorious sight- short cropped hair and a Drooble's Blowing Gum wrapper in the hand of a petite yet attractive woman. Alice Longbottom, his

"Mum!" He rushed into her arms. There weren't any nurses in sight, so he gratefully closed the door and finished the hug properly. She seemed a little too unresponsive today, though. She didn't even put her arms around him like she usually did. Instead, she ripped the gum wrapper in little pieces behind his head and mumbled incomprehensibly.

Neville pulled away and studied her face. "How are you, Mum?" he asked. She looked at him, petted his head, and continued ripping the wrapper. Neville led her over to a comfortable seat in the room and faced her. "Where's Dad?" he asked. Again, she looked at him, but his time she smiled. "Dad," she repeated quietly. Neville nodded happily. "Yes, Dad. Where is he?" She pointed a finger toward the door Neville had just come in. He stared. "Out there?" His mother nodded and then went back to ripping the wrapper into tiny pieces.

Neville jumped toward the door, blowing his mother a kiss, and rushed out. His Dad was out in the ward, wandering around? Not good. Not good AT ALL.

He ran like a madman through the place, peeking into each and every room. He was ignored by most of the nurses, which wasn't exactly comforting. Once, he asked one if she'd seen Frank Longbottom, and she stared at him as though he were from America and walked off.

After a tiring hour or so, he found his Dad, but not in the place he'd expected. Frank Longbottom was sitting in Xenophilius Lovegood's room, on the floor, listening to the man jabber away. With a sigh of relief, Neville made his presence known.

"Hey, Dad, why'd you go and leave Mum all alone? She's missing you." His father looked up with a smile but did not stand. Mr. Lovegood was still talking. Neville knelt down in front of his father. "Alice," he said clearly. Frank stood and left the room. Neville beamed and turned to face Luna's father.

"Mr. Lovegood, I'm Neville Longbottom," he said. Mr. Lovegood stopped talking and stared. "Neville," he muttered. Feeling accomplished, Neville sat himself down on a stool and leaned closer to the man. "Yes," he whispered. "I am Neville."

The man's hands began to tremble. Neville backed off, fearful that Luna's father might have a fit or something, but all he did was repeat, over and over, "Neville, Neville."

Then, something extraordinary happened. Mr. Lovegood looked Neville right in the face. "You must," he whispered. Neville, puzzled, leaned close again. "Must what?" he asked. Mr. Lovegood, without a blink, said, "Save her."

Neville stood. "Where?" The man sitting on the bed did not speak. Neville headed for the door, opened it, and started to leave. However, he could have sworn he'd heard, "Shrieking Shack," come from the room as he left.

Without a doubt, he knew that was where he must go.

_**Might seem a bit rushed, but I had to decide why he even went to St. Mungo's in the first place. Next part I am very excited to write X3. R&R if you wish.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Part VI**_

_**[Time Frame]: Hogsmead.**_

"Blimey, mate, you sure look hungry. Why not stop at the Boar's Head?" "Madam Rosmerta wishes for any weary traveler to stop at her pub. Care to come in?" "You look terrible, son. Buy a ruddy Snuggie before you croak from all this rain, yeah?"

Neville had up to this point ignored each and every offer that came to him as he walked downtown in Hogsmead, but that last comment was impossible to brush off. A Snuggie? Neville could hear Ron in his head, yelling, "Bloody Hell, mate, I didn't know they had gay dementors!"

He shot the peddler a look and kept walking. If he burst out laughing, it would not end well for him. It was true, though; he did look absolutely awful. It was pouring rain, he was tired, hungry, and irritable. What more could go wrong? _Luna could be dead_, he thought to himself, and pushed all complaints from his mind. She was his number one priority right now. He could feast, rest, and make fun of the Snuggie peddler as soon as she was safely away from Bellatrix Lestrange.

The Shrieking Shack loomed above him by now. It looked just as he remembered from 3 ½ years ago when he'd followed Harry, who had gone after Sirius Black. He could have caught that Peter Pettigrew, had Harry not gone after Professor Lupin…

He pulled out his wand, pissed now. Harry Potter always got to save people, and always succeeded. Why, he was probably on the way right now to save Luna Lovegood, and Neville would be lost in the crowd once again. NO! Not again, not now not ever. He was going in.

Guilt flooded through him. Luna wasn't a prize to be one. She was his friend, and she was in trouble. That was all that mattered, not him and his loser problems. He tried the rotting door. It was locked.

"Alohomora!" he shouted. The lock clicked open and flew into the bushes, while the door swung open, revealing a dismal interior. Neville smirked and trotted inside, slamming the door behind him. "Hey, Bella, I'm home! Come and get me!" he screamed, feeling cocky and cool…he stopped smiling and looked at a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. He was Neville Longbottom, not Draco Malfoy. He gingerly opened and closed doors, quietly announced his arrival, carefully walked with soft steps. This new Neville wasn't him at all.

He rolled down the dirty shirt sleeves and fixed the cuffs. There. That was how he wore his clothes. He smoothed down his fluffy hair, because he wore it smart, not like he'd just been playing Quidditch. Just as he was finished primping, the mirror shattered. Glass flew everywhere, and one piece cut him on the cheek. Holding his face and wielding his wand, Neville turned around and looked. Nothing there.

He pulled his hand away and wiped the blood on his pants. That had to be Bellatrix who broke the mirror. But where was she? "Show yourself!" he said clearly, loudly, his voice quavering. Just to his left, something broke. He turned abruptly and faced the direction, now holding the wand with both hands.

Something above him creaked. He was afraid to look, but- dear God, the chandelier! Neville dodged just as the dusty crystals hit the ground with a crash. A cackle sounded. Yep, it was Bellatrix.

"Hiya, Longbottom. How's the family?" Neville looked up at the sound of her wretched voice. She stood grinning on the balcony, leaning over the banister. Neville aimed and shot red sparks, hoping to burn her, but she stepped to the side at the last second and laughed again. "How 'bout the girl?" She stared at him and flicked her wand, which hung at her side. Neville was about to hit her again when something started moving at the Death Eater's feet, rising off the ground that at first he thought it was her skirts.

The object rose higher into the air and hovered right where the chandelier had been, some 30 feet above the floor. "Luna," Neville whispered. Bellatrix smiled and flicked her wand again. Luna, hair flying, fell at lightning speed to the ground.

Just before she hit bottom, Neville skid across the concrete and caught her in his arms. The force of her body knocked the wind out of him for a minute, but he regained control and gently lay her down on the floor. "Luna," he whispered again, this time as tears began to smart in his eyes. She wasn't breathing. Her nose was broken , and dried blood surrounded her nostrils. One of her eyes was completely purple. Her throat had hand marks, making huge bruises.

Neville raised his head, his lip quivering. "Why?" was all he could say to that…that murderer. She hopped down from the platform and landed next to him with skill. "I'm here to put you in your place," Bellatrix whispered, licking her lips and grinning evilly. "Where's that, Bellatrix?" Neville asked, standing up to face her equally. "With your mum and dad in St. Mungo's," she said matter-of-factly, walking over to a perfectly intact vase and dropping it onto the floor, smiling when she heard it break.

The tears were flowing freely now. "Oh yeah? Well, you know where you're place is?" Neville shot back, fingering the glorious stick at his side. "Where's that, Longbottom?" Bellatrix looked extremely amused and apparently decided that the teenager in front of her was no threat, for she sat down on a cobweb covered cushion.

Neville swallowed hard and mumbled, "Hell," as he aimed his wand at her and yelled. She tumbled off the chair in fright, and her wand went sailing towards Neville. He grabbed it and gladly snapped it in half, then tossed it into a blazing fire that had been brewing in the fireplace all this time unnoticed. Bellatrix Lestrange's face contorted into a horrible state and she screamed as loud as she could. Neville shut her up with a handy charm from Professor Flitwick and even smiled as she opened her mouth and tried to yell, and despaired upon realizing that she was muted.

She pulled herself off the ground and ran for Neville, but he had the wand, and happily petrified her with Hermione's old spell, "Petrificus Totalus!" Bellatrix seemed very surprised that such a baby spell could work on her, but it did, and she lay flat on the floor, still as a rock. Neville rushed over to Luna.

The girl still hadn't moved, and her eyes were shut tight. Neville felt the tears engulfing him again, but tried to push them away. He had to see if she was really dead first. He tried the Muggle ways, CPR, mouth to mouth (which he did gladly), recessitation, but none of it worked.

He was close to giving up when he noticed that she was still warm, not cold as the dead usually are. She was under some sort of spell! But which one? Without even looking at his captive he flicked his wand. She could now speak. "What did you put on her?" he asked. Bellatrix protested with a number of curses before Neville rolled his eyes and made her violently shake. "I said, what did you put on her?" he asked impatiently. "Gave…her…sleeping draught," gasped the Death Eater. "Thank you," Neville said, and shut her up again. Now he had to think, and he must do it in silence.

What was the antidote for sleeping draught? He smiled as he realized the simplicity of the situation. Professor Slughorn had given them a brilliant lesson, during which he revealed that the only way to awaken someone under the sleeping draught potion was to give them a Mentos, and Neville always kept them because they were his favorite candy.

He joyously pulled out the package from his pocket and in great anticipation opened the wrapper to- nothing. It was empty! "No. No, no, no!" he cried, tossing the paper to the ground and throwing himself on top of Luna's body. It was hopeless. She would suffocate soon, and then she would really be dead, and it would indeed be all his fault.

Just then he had another thought. He sniffled and pulled himself into sitting position, and groped for the wrapper. There was the Mentos sugar dust left over, as he suspected. Now, Slughorn strongly cautioned against this tactic, but said it would work, but he didn't want anyone practicing it in his classroom.

Neville smeared the candied dust all over his lips and looked down at Luna. He'd never, ever done this before. What if he did it wrong? What if he didn't have enough dust? What if…

"Stop living your life with 'what ifs'," Ginny had told him. Her voice rang in his ears now. He blinked his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose, bent down, and kissed Luna full on the lips. His tears fell down his cheeks. _Please work_, he silently begged.

He felt movement underneath him, but didn't dare pull back, lest it only be a rat or something. But then he decided to open his eyes, for if it was a rat he could brush it away from Luna if he reached far enough. His eyes opened, and he beheld the most beautiful sight- silver eyes.

He pulled back. "Uh…hi, Luna," he stuttered, quickly pulling himself up from the embarrassing situation. She smiled. "Hello, Neville. I see you like Mentos too, hmm?" She giggled, and Neville chuckled nervously in turn. Luna sat up. "Interesting antidote, Neville. I just hope the Wrackspurt didn't find his way to the wrapper before you stuck it in your mouth."

Neville held out his hand, which she took, and they left the Shrieking Shack, leaving the one who caused them all such grief on the floor to…well, freak out. For a few more minutes. The Ministry sent officials to pick her up as soon as Luna and Neville were accounted for.

_**Sorry if the ending is sappy, I had an urge here. More to be posted soon. R & R if you wish.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Finally, have updated Neville and his adventures. Hope this meets the expectations of a proper transition chapter.**_

Part VII

{The Scene}: The Burrow

"You git! Why the hell would you do something so stupid?" Ginny was furious. Neville blushed but remained silent. Fred rushed to his rescue. "Ginevra, calm yourself. Whether it was stupid or brilliant," (Here, George chimed in, "But mind you, it was bloody brilliant!"), "He still managed to come back alive, so be grateful."

"Plus, as an added bonus," George continued, "He led the Ministry right to Bellatrix Lestrange. She won't be doing too much after this." He and his twin snickered. Ginny pouted. "Just promise me you'll never do anything like that again," she asked Neville. The boy nodded and smiled, and she was satisfied for the moment. She scampered off to her room. Neville was content for a moment, but then he realized she'd left him in a room alone with the twins.

George took out a notebook and pen, pushed it across the table at Neville, and gave a sheepish grin, batting his eyes. "Will you sign this for me, Mr. Longbottom? You're my biggest fan!" he gushed. Neville merely looked at the objects in front of him. Fred grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen counter and used it as a microphone. "Tell us, Neville, how did it feel, vanquishing Lestrange once and for all?"

Neville twiddled his thumbs, embarrassed. Then he realized that the boys were serious. He took up the pen and wrote his name in beautiful cursive, passed the notebook back to its owner, and looked Fred in the face. "It felt great," he declared. "I would have liked to have put her in her place, but there were other, more important things that needed fixing at that time." The twins caused a ruckus at this, which made Neville flush again.

"I hope she enjoys where she's headed," Neville continued. "And if she's listening, she better take note: If you ever bother me or anyone I love ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you."

The twins laughed, but quietly. "Don't let Ginevra hear you talking like that, she'll throw a right fit," said George, admiring his new autograph. "Again," added Fred, absently stroking the spoon as he stared at Neville.

Neville stood and excused himself. He really needed some air. Ever since he had brought Luna home and returned himself to the Weasley home, he had not received any peace at all. He just needed some quiet to clear his mind. A lot had happened in the past few days.

Out the front door he ventured, and up to the serene garden he meandered. It was nice just to sit there on the little bench and catch his breath with no interruptions. Aside from that mosquito bite just now. And again. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

And now someone was crying somewhere in the yard. Just great. No peace, ever, huh? With a groan he called, "Who's out there?"

Nothing. The crying stopped, but he could hear the sniffles. Thinking it was maybe Ginny, he got up and began to search frantically through the bushes. He saw absolutely nothing at all. Just then he heard something rustle near him. Something brushed his ankle. He gasped and backed up, and then fell altogether into a heap on the grass.

But since when did he have multiple limbs? "Geroff," his apparent parasite grunted from Neville's back. It sounded strangely like-

"Harry!" Neville scrambled to his feet and helped his friend up. Neurotically he dusted Harry off and muttered various apologies. Harry said nothing. "Haven't seen you in a while. What's up?" Neville attempted conversation and steered Harry toward the stone bench. The raven-haired companion allowed himself to be taken over there, but he did not sit when Neville did. He stood and paced.

"Nothing's 'up,' but I guess you can't say the same thing, can you?" Neville just stared. Harry went on. "Off saving the world a normal occurrence for you, Neville? Do you enjoy putting people in their place?"

Neville was confused. What the hell was wrong with Harry today? "What's your problem?" he flat out asked him. Harry turned his head with a jerk. "Oh, nothing at all, except that you decided to go off and save Luna, hurting Ginny along the way, and you went and got rid of my only chance to get revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange!" Harry was fuming by this point.

Neville stood up. "Excuse me, but she nearly killed my parents. She tortured them until they couldn't function anymore. They still suffer from what she did to them." Harry countered, "She really killed my godfather, the only real family I had left in the world."

"What was I supposed to do, Harry? Let her go wreak havoc on everybody else until you could find her? At least I didn't kill her. Get over it." Neville sat back down. Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry, Neville, I just really wanted to- you know what, forget it. Are you coming back in or not?" Harry was making his way to the door. "No, I'll sit out here a while. Nice and quiet, you know?" "Sure, sure," Harry waved him off and went back inside.

"Seven times, I've been bitten seven times," Neville said aloud. On the inside, he was pretty mad. What was the matter with Harry? Was he upset that he couldn't rush in there and save Luna himself?

Little did Neville know that this was not the last time Harry would spout this sort of anger.

Another mosquito came by and landed on the tip of Neville's nose. "Eight," he sighed, and dejectedly walked back to the Burrow.

**_R & R if you will._**


	8. Chapter 8

**Part VIII**

**[The Scene:] Platform 9 ¾**

Neville was sitting on a bench with his suitcase in hand. He was tapping his foot anxiously on the ground. It looked like he really had to go to the loo, but in actuality, he was extremely nervous. Here he was, preparing to embark on the journey to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year, but he didn't really have permission to do so.

_Gran probably figures I'm still with Ron and Harry_, he thought to himself. He and Gran Longbottom hadn't shared a personal conversation since the beginning of the summer. Mrs. Weasley had agreed to intervene, telling the dear old woman she was watching Neville at the Burrow, and he was earning his keep in the neighboring town. However, after Bill and Fleur's wedding disaster, not even Molly Weasley knew where Neville Longbottom was, or was heading too.

Of course, it was pretty obvious. They could make a good guess and show up at the platform right before it took off, blowing the entire plan. That's why Neville was so nervous.

The conductor was shouting, "All aboard!" and soon-to-be first years eagerly clambered into the compartments as mums and dads stood waving goodbye. Little ones held on to their mother's skirts, crying for a brother or sister like they were going off to war, not a boarding school. The older children piled on after that, and as the students got progressively taller, Neville got progressively more anxious, and the tapping sped up like a marching army. To an innocent bystander he might appear to be having a seizure. The time was ticking away, any longer and he might miss his shot to get back to Hogwarts altogether-

A hand grasped his shoulder tightly. It was all over. He was too late. A familiar voice whispered in his ear, "Did you really think I'd let you go?" And Neville cursed himself for having waited so long.

* * *

"Dang it, Ginny, why'd you give me such a scare? I thought you were Gran!"

Neville and Ginny were sitting in a train compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Luna Lovegood and Hannah Abbott. Ginny sat across from Neville with Hannah, who kept staring at Neville as though he was a vision in white, and Luna sat next to Neville, holding his hand discreetly under the table. Luna was never discreet, which was why the gesture was so startling to our hero.

Ginny smirked. "Sorry, love, but it was too tempting to resist. You were sitting there looking so anxious, and I've been feeling low lately." Neville didn't need to ask her why. It was clear that she was worried about her boyfriend, brother, and best friend who were off chasing horcruxes and would not be joining the group for another year at Hogwarts.

Neville looked around. "Where are Dean and Seamus?" Luna giggled, and the sound came out like pixie bells. "Silly, don't you remember Seamus' outburst at the end of last term? He swore he wasn't coming back, and when Ron told him he was a coward that was letting his mum make decisions for him, they got into a fight."

Neville did remember that, only too well. Seamus had berated Neville after the brawl for not helping him 'pummel that ginger.' "Right then, how about Dean?"

Hannah piped up now. "No one's heard from him since about a month ago. I heard he ran away from home." Neville was dismayed. "Great, now I'm the only male of the group left. People will start to wonder," he joked. Deep inside, however, he really was upset. Dean and Seamus had been his closest friends, besides Ginny, and now she was all he had left. Except Luna, and possibly Hannah, of course.

The four chatted and shared stories of summer, munched on snacks from the kart when it came around, and gossiped. Neville not so much on the latter, because as a male his natural instinct to gossip was to not get involved and let the women do the talking.

They seemed to lose track of time, because the train abruptly stopped as the sun started to set. "We can't possibly be there yet," said Ginny, who turned to look out the window. The chatter of the other students in the neighboring compartments grew still, and the train got eerily silent. Then, the door to the car opened, and a single man came on board.

He wore nothing to suggest that he was a Death Eater or from the Ministry, but something about the man's haggard, bearded face was sinister. Neville cringed as the man walked down the aisle and opened each one, peering in and then silently moving on. What was he looking for?

As the man approached their car, Neville suddenly wondered if it was Harry he was looking for. That would explain why the creepy dude looked so, well, creepy. Guys like that were always after Harry.

The man reached the compartment just adjacent from theirs, and after a quick glance at the frightened eyes of Hannah, the flaming cheeks of Ginny, and the emotionless face of Luna, Neville was shot with a boost of confidence. Someone had to stand up to this guy and tell him what was up.

He stood and faced the door. Just as his position was situated, the compartment door was furiously flung open. The sinister-looking gentlemen glared at Neville with a how-dare-you sort of expression. Neville took a deep breath and spoke.

"Loser, he's not here."

The man smirked at Neville and replied with a thick Russian accent. "All the same, I'll keep searching. I might see something I like." He lowered his gaze to Hannah, who was pressing herself against the wall like her life depended on it. The vile spark in the man's eyes made it seem like her life probably did depend on that wall. The man took a step into the compartment and Neville broke. "Don't you touch her!" he shrieked and jumped at the man, but he was sent flying into the window with a backhand to the face.

"I'll do as I please," the Russian returned, and with an evil smile to the three girls, he slammed the door shut and continued on his raid.

Neville allowed Ginny to fuss over him and Hannah to cry and hug him multiple times, and he even allowed Luna to mend his broken nose. The pain was not that big an issue, though, because despite what had just occurred, he felt better than he had in a long time. He had stood up to somebody. With a smile to himself, he decided to do that more often. Harry wouldn't be at Hogwarts to be the hero, so maybe Neville could take his place. It was worth a shot.

**_Well guys, I finally got past my writer's block. Here's the next installment, R&R if you wish._**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Part VIX**_

_**[Scene]: Hog's Head Inn**_

Neville had been hoping for the day that Harry Potter would return from his travels ever since he had stood up to that Death Eater way back in September. Now, after six months of fighting for his life against even more Death Eaters and trying to spare the lives of the others at school, he would no longer be alone. Standing before him was Harry himself, along with Ron and Hermione, who looked lovelier than usual, if that was possible.

"I knew you'd come back," he mumbled, before throwing himself onto Harry and bursting into tears of joy. Harry awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and wiggled his way out of Neville's grasp. "How are you, Neville?" he asked, proceeding to adjust his glasses, which had been knocked askew in the embrace.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Neville said truthfully, and went on to hug Ron, who actually reciprocated to the hug, and Hermione, who gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm mighty pleased you've all come at last. I wasn't sure how much longer we could all hold on."

Aberforth clapped a great hand on Neville's back. "This young man has been the savior of Hogwarts this past half year, Harry. He can take you back to the castle and show you what's what."

Was that a glint of envy Neville saw shooting across Harry's deep green eyes? It couldn't be, not after all they had both been through. He did, however, feel Harry's eyes on him, examining every inch of cuts, bruises, and dirt that caked his skin.

"How are the others?" Ron asked after a moment. Neville looked over at him. "Seamus is worse off than I am," said Neville, gesturing to his ragged appearance. "That Irish blood's really been boiling lately. Hannah Abbott is doing well, she worked her way out of a skirmish with the Carrows last week. Luna was okay before they, you know, dragged her off."

"I thought Seamus swore he wasn't coming back," Hermione queried. Neville smiled. "We sent him a full report of what was going on and told him Lavendar Brown would go out with him if he showed himself. After that, well, he rushed up here, and he and Lavendar have been at it ever since."

Hermione was rightly pleased, but Harry shook his head sharply and barked, "Ginny, what about Ginny? Is she all right?" Neville chuckled. "Relax, Harry, she's fine. That fiery hair matches her disposition nowadays. She misses you a lot, you know. Hannah tells me that she cries every night."

Neville stopped here at the broken look that crossed Harry's face. "But I'm sure you'd like to ask her that yourself. Come on, I'll show you back to the castle. But I warn you, it's not a pretty sight. Especially since Snape is Headmaster."

The anticipated shock never came from Harry, because by the time Neville had finished his sentence, Harry was already deep inside the tunnel behind the picture of Ariana Dumbledore.

Ron made up for it by exclaiming with his signature, "Bloody Hell!" and Hermione shook her head in disgust. Neville looked up for support and found it in the kind eyes of Aberforth. "Go on, boy, show them the way. Don't worry about Harry, being the Chosen One is a big job, and sometimes he gets ahead of himself."

Neville nodded solemnly and led his two friends back to Hogwarts, and found it very easy to chat to them about all that had happened since they had seen each other. All the same, he wished that once, just once, he could be the Chosen One, instead of Harry Potter.

* * *

When the trio reached the castle, Harry was already assembling a large group of Hogwarts students and addressing them on the proper way to disarm a Death Eater. He was holding Ginny's hand and standing beside the Carrows, who were lying unconscious on the tiled floor.

Neville approached and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry would not let him speak. "Ron and Hermione, I need you to go down to the Chamber of Secrets and get basilisk fangs. It's imperative that we have them," he demanded, and without a word the two were off to retrieve the teeth.

"Harry, what in the world are you-" Neville began, but by now Harry had dismissed the students and was rounding on him. "I'm gonna let you finish," he said, "but first I need you stall the pack of Malfoy-lovers on the third floor. They've got Seamus and Lavendar cornered apparently, and it's not like I don't trust them or anything, but I think they might need backup. Take Hannah with you."

Apparently, Neville didn't even need to tell Harry that the school was falling to pieces and a battle was ensuing, because he'd merely appointed himself a general of some sort and was hell-bent on leading his troops to victory.

With a sigh, Neville looked over at Hannah and they headed off to rescue Seamus and Lavendar, who if Neville assumed correctly were snogging in a corner somewhere in the least bit of danger possible.

**_Well, here's the next installment. I hope it satisfies my readers. I realize it's not much, but perhaps the next chapter I'm working on will fulfill that. R&R if you wish. _**


	10. Chapter 10

**Part**** X**

**[Scene: Hogwarts Castle]**

Neville, with blood dripping down his face, walked through the ruins of his beloved school. The battle had reached an hour-long ceasefire, requested by Lord Voldemort in hopes that Harry would seek him out. The break gave Neville ample time to check the casualty list and chuck up on the statuses of Luna, Seamus, Hannah, and of course Harry.

He reached the Great Hall and immediately a sense of dread filled his soul. The hall was littered with rubble and bodies. Everyone was in mourning. He walked around, patting the shoulders of quiet buddies and stopping to pay respects with sobbing students. Fred Weasley's limp form lay sprawled on a dark canvas, all the Weasley's surrounding him. Tonks and Remus were being placed respectfully on two stretchers, their hands slightly touching.

Neville spotted Seamus cradling a girl with massive curly hair. He rushed over and it was a terrible confirmation- Lavender was lying in his arms, her neck and right cheek covered in blood. She was crying hysterically.

"…he was so horrible, clawing and biting," she was wailing. Seamus looked up sorrowfully at Neville. "Greyback got ahold of her and had a field day," he muttered darkly. "Dean and I found her, made short work of him." Lavender began to writhe.

"Burning…burning…let go…get off…help…Shay won't want me anymore," she murmured wildly. Seamus began to flush red, true to his Irish blood. "I'll always want you, love," he whispered, rocking her back and forth.

"I'm a monster…won't marry me now…too horrible to look at," Lavender cried, clearly not in her right mind. Seamus began to unleash his temper. Angry tears appeared in his eyes. "Why didn't she ever say that's what she wanted, to get married?" he asked Neville, looking up helplessly.

"You wouldn't have asked," she said calmly, sanely, her eyes suddenly flying open and locking on Seamus'. Softly he replied, "Blimey Lavender, I'm asking now." Then she passed out from blood loss and Seamus rushed off to get her medical attention. Neville wandered away in search of Luna. If Seamus could have love in this war zone, why shouldn't he?

Moments later, though, all thoughts of Luna or the others were forgotten. Students were straggling in from the Grounds, many sporting injuries. Several, however, were carrying bodies, and that was what caught Neville's eye.

Dean was in the lead of this group of survivors. He spotted Neville and jerked his head behind him. "There's at least 15 more out there. Help us carry them in," he said. Neville nodded and hurried outside. He instantly saw a tuft of blond hair over by a bush, and when he arrived at the scene he discovered that it was Collin Creevey. With a sigh of sadness, he gingerly picked up the boy and turned to head back into the castle, but a lone figure had emerged and was heading his way.

It was Harry.

"Neville," he said quietly, coming towards our protagonist. He looked pretty well off, considering the battle that had taken place. Neville nodded politely and gestured off behind him. "Help me out, mate. We need to get them inside."

Harry shook his head. "I can't, I'm going to meet him." Neville nearly dropped Collin. "Harry, you can't just give yourself up! All these people will have died for nothing if you go turn yourself in."

"You don't understand. I can't have anyone else die for me. Best to give him what he wants so he'll leave you all alone."

Harry headed off, but Neville called, "What about this one right here?" Harry turned his head. "You just walk off like you don't remember? This boy right here worshipped the bloody ground you walked on Harry, he taught his brother to follow in your footsteps, does that mean anything to you? How about the girl in there who loves you? You're just going to give up and leave her like this? It seems pretty selfish to me mate."

A period of silence ensued. "The longer you stand here in my way, the more time ticks away, getting closer to the hour that he kills all of you. This is the only way, Neville. Why can't you wrap your thick head around that?" With this, he left, heading to the Forbidden Forest where sure and sudden death awaited him. To anyone else, Harry may have seemed like a hero, but to Neville, who watched the departure holding Collin Creevey's dead body in his arms, he just seemed like an arse.

_**Sorry about the romance, but I just can't help myself sometimes, being the hopeless romantic that I am. The next installment will be up real soon. R&R if you wish.**_


End file.
